The Tale of Three Thieves
by Alex Foster
Summary: When three thieves trick Link into helping them escape justice, they inadvertently open a door that will either lead to their salvation or to their deaths.
1. The Meeting

Title: The Tale of Three Thieves

Author: Alex Foster

Feedback: Send any comments to AF451@worldnet.att.net

Category: Drama

Rating: PG-13

Summary: When three thieves trick Link into helping them escape justice, they inadvertently open a door that will either lead to their salvation or to their deaths.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Nintendo. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: I'm not sure how the reader will receive this story. It would be nice to say I sat down to write an allegory of redemption and owning up to one's actions, but in reality I simply wanted to craft an interesting tale of three strangers that Link happens to on the road. If, in endeavoring to do so, this ended up as a moralizing story, then so be it. The story must know what it's doing. I hope, no matter how the reader interprets this story, he or she will walk away having been entertained. Thank you for reading.

~

__

"There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm."

Willa Cather, _The Song of the Lark_, 1915

~

****

Chapter One

Evonne hoped it had all been a dream. She had prayed to any god or goddess that would listen for the last two weeks to have not happened. That she hadn't spent each night on the hard ground with sticks and rocks for pillows. That the existence she'd known since birth had not ended with one foolish mistake.

But the hand that clamped over her mouth, jarring her awake, told her that the past two weeks were very real, and that she was about to leave her dreams to find a nightmare waiting.

Evonne opened eyes crusted from sleep and found a large man clad in a hooded shirt of chainmail standing over her. She didn't need to look at his coat of arms to discern his sovereign; there was only one person who would send armed men after a simple kitchen girl. The large blue-eyed man was one of Duke Volo's loyal soldiers.

"On your feet, bitch." With little show of strain, the man pulled her to her feet. Evonne swayed slightly as her body struggled to awake up. Her simple hand-stitched gray dress, torn from bramble and smudged with dirt from sleeping on the ground, hung heavy on her thin, bony body.

Looking across the same small camp that had seemed so warm and safe the night before, she saw one of her two traveling companions held captive by another soldier. Clad in brown trousers, white shirt, brown vest, and stolen boots, Dermot Westlin was a short man with a not so short face. He scowled at the guard holding him, at the fate that had befallen him, and at Evonne.

Unkempt blond hair half covered his gaze, but Evonne could still feel his eyes piercing into her. She felt a rush of unmerited guilt. Something inside of her cowered like a frightened child from that gaze.

Bramble rustled and two other guards leading another captured man appeared. One soldier looked nearly the same as the other two with his polished mail, but the one next to him was clearly in charge. He wore a red shirt over his chainmail and had not raised the armor's hood. A band with several strips on it was wrapped around his left arm—Evonne knew that band represented a ranking but did not know which grade.

The man being led forward by the ranking officer was dressed the same as Dermot, and when he raised his head the brotherly resemblance was stunning. Darby Westlin was taller than his brother but did not rise to a great height. Dark circles ringed his brown eyes and spoke of his hours spent watching over their camp. His duty had been to keep watch for any of the Duke's men and raise alarm before they could approach the camp. He didn't look to his brother; his gaze sought only Evonne's.

Darby did not scowl at her. He did not make something inside her cower; he made her feel warm and, despite the soldiers around them, safe.

Evonne wanted to tell him that she wasn't angry he hadn't seen the approaching soldiers, but didn't. In the presence of the Duke's men, she didn't dare speak unless spoken to.

The soldier with the armband looked the three of them over. His was a hostile gaze. He looked at Dermot, Darby, and Evonne with the same regard one might give a mushroom while debating if it would be useful for dinner.

"Where is it?" he asked in a baritone voice.

Dermot raised his chin defiantly. "Where's what?"

The soldier with the armband moved faster than Evonne could follow. In a blink the man lashed out and struck Dermot with enough force to throw the smaller man to the ground.

Darby took a step forward and cried, "Brother!" The mail-clad soldier behind him grabbed his arms and yanked him back into place.

The man with the armband drew his belt knife and pointed first to Darby then to Dermot. "Tell me where the pouch is, boy, or I cut out your brother's tongue!"

"That seems rather extreme," a calm voice said from the edge of the camp.

All eyes turned to find the owner of that voice. The man stood at the edge of the small clearing appearing to have melted from dark places the just risen sun had yet to touch. He was clad in a brown cloak that reached the tops of his boots. His hands were discreetly hidden within the folds of the long garment. The hood of his cloak was pushed back to reveal the freshly scrubbed face of a young man. Lines born of stress and hardship around his mouth and eyes belied that youth.

Through the center part of his cloak, Evonne could see that he wore dark trousers and a green tunic. His clothes were simple enough to denote him as someone used to traveling, but he held an air of dignity that was far from simple.

"It seems extreme that you would feel the need to do that," he said. His tone was soft but carried a weight Evonne couldn't quite discern. "They are at your mercy. You need not torture them for something you can easily look for yourself."

"This is none of your concern, stranger," the soldier with the armband said. His tone was hard and meant to intimidate.

The stranger didn't flinch. "Yes it is, Sergeant. I am a simple traveler in this land and need to know if I should fear the soldiers that protect me instead of the brigands who eye my purse."

"You'll have nothin' to fear if you obey the law," the sergeant said.

"And what was their crime?" 

"They stole an item of great value."

The stranger considered this for a moment. Evonne felt her heart pounding furiously in her chest. "Have you looked for this item?" the stranger asked.

"Doin' it when you came up," the sergeant said angrily.

"No."

The sergeant's face flushed red. "'No' what?"

"You were not searching," the stranger calmly replied, "you were torturing. Thieves or not, you have no right to harm these people unduly. They are in your custody, I doubt they could overpower you and your men."

The sergeant had run out of patients. "Leave now, sir. I have answered your questions and can assure you that these people are criminals. Dangerous criminals. It is not your business how the Duke chooses to deal with his offenders."

"It is my business." The stranger took a step from the shadows that had concealed him. His cloak parted revealing the hilt of a sword. Evonne was accustomed to seeing soldiers and their broadswords from a life spent in the Duke's manor, but this man's sword made her draw a breath in surprise. This was a king's sword. An elegant winged crossguard arched down over the bloodcatch of the blade. The hilt was well wrapped and looked as though it had been called to its owner's hands countless times—though why anyone would carry such a sword instead of hanging it proudly on the wall of some ruler's great hall was a mystery to Evonne.

An emblem of three triangles was gilded in gold on the sword's hilt. Evonne felt sure they were meant to symbolize something, but did not know what. The sword moved easily with the man's hip; a gesture of someone familiar with its presence.

"My name is Link," he said. His tone still holding the same commanding softness as before. "I am from a land called Hyrule. There I hold the title of Knight of the Triforce. It is my sworn duty to see to the safety of all—even criminals."

The soldier guarding Darby eyed Link's sword hungrily. "Maybe this guy is with the other three, Sergeant. I think we should take him in, too. Just to be safe, that is."

A chuckle rippled through the soldiers. Evonne saw Link roll his eyes. She felt sorry for him.

Darby's guard started toward Link. "Hand over your blade...and your coin purse—don't know if you have a knife in there or not."

Link's cloak twirled slightly about his legs as his left hand moved underneath the folds. "I would gladly give you my sword, but I don't think it will like you very much. As for my purse, I can assure you I have no weapons hidden in it."

The soldier wrapped his hand around the short sword at his hip and pulled it free. "You wouldn't be thinkin' about resistin' the law, would ya?"

Evonne wanted to look away; she had seen the same brutality happen to so many people and she didn't think she could bear watching it again. She expected the man named Link to pull his king's sword and try dueling with the guard, but he didn't. He didn't move at all.

"If I were with these three," Link said calmly, "why would I have returned to the camp? You didn't see me while you were surrounding this clearing, and I doubt you would have seen me escape into the woods."

"I want your sword," the solider said and lunged forward, short sword raised.

Moving so smoothly he seemed to glide across the ground, Link stepped to the side and brought his left arm up.

A wet smack followed by a loud snap filled the clearing.

The soldier's lunge went awry. He hit the ground next to Link's feet with a groan. Evonne's eyes went wide. The guard's nose bent at an unnatural angle and blood flowed down his chin from his open mouth.

"He broke my nose!" the downed guard yelled.

In his left hand, Link held a tree branch. It was as long as Evonne's forearm and as wide as her hand and split down its center from the guard's face. "Turn on your stomach, soldier," he said, throwing the branch away, "or you'll choke on your own blood."

The guard next to Dermot abandoned his prisoner, drew his short sword, and ran toward the Knight of the Triforce.

With the grace and speed of a dancer, Link spun to the side, grabbed the charging soldier as he passed, and threw him to the ground. Keeping his weight centered on spread legs, the Knight recovered from his spin. He backpedaled so he wasn't in between the bloodied guard and the one who had charged him.

The former climbed to his feet and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. "You think that's funny, stranger? Why don't you try fighting like a man?" Sword raised, he charged again.

The same dodging trick wouldn't work twice. Link stood his ground and ducked under the soldier's wide swing. Coming up fast the Knight caught the guard's sword hand with his, hooked a leg around the guard's knees, and again threw him to the ground.

With a look that was empty of satisfaction or anger, Link rounded the edge of the camp and drew his sword. The sound of sharpened steel against well-tooled leather was a frightful noise. It was an announcement to the world that a dealer of death was about to carry out justice.

Link dropped into a battle stance and brandished the sword. "Stand down, soldier," he said. "Stand down before you hurt yourself."

The soldier in the hooded shirt of chainmail didn't seem to hear him. He crossed the camp in two long strides and swung at the Knight.

The two swords met with a spray of hot sparks. The guard quickly reversed his swing and came in low. Link stepped back and met the attack with his blade.

With a battle cry, the Knight slipped his king's sword from the soldier's and struck out in a furious attack. The guard stumbled back trying to parry each deadly precise swing before it could reach through his defense.

In the middle of the camp Link hooked the tip of his sword through the crossguard of the soldier's and forced the sword downward. His leg came up and he side kicked the guard squarely in the chest.

With a huff of breath leaving his lungs, the guard fell back to the ground. The Knight spun and brought his sword about.

'He's going to decapitate the soldier,' Evonne thought. She wanted to look away but couldn't force her gaze from the drama in front of her.

The king's sword sliced through the air with a sharp whistle. At the last possible moment, the Knight turned his wrists and the flat end of the blade struck the soldier's head. The guard toppled onto his side, dazed.

Link whirled about and pointed his sword at the lead soldier and said, "Leave here, Sergeant! Gather your men and leave here.

"The King's own men are the brigands I must fear! I doubted only your methods, Sergeant, not your accusation of these three people. But your men and their disgraceful display have made me doubt your reasons for stopping them.

"If these three are indeed criminals, then I shall bring them to your sovereign. Leave here, Sergeant—they are my concern now." He lowered the sword but did not sheath it.

The air in the camp crackled with power. The sergeant was no longer in control of the situation; Link was, and both men knew it. The sergeant's throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed. A long moment stretched between them. Finally, the man with the armband called out, "On your feet and move out!" Quietly to Link he said, "we will be back, Knight."

"I would expect nothing less, sir," the tall stranger replied.

Within minutes, Duke Volo's men were gone.

Dermot rose to his feet and smiled that false looking smile of his. "Thank you very much, Sir Link. We are forever in your—"

"Sit down," the Knight ordered.

Dermot sank back down.

Link studied each of them for a full minute without saying a word. He walked to Evonne and bent down.

She felt her stomach knot when those blue eyes met her green-eyed gaze. An aura of deadliness was palpable around the man and his bared blade. She suddenly wished for the sergeant and his brutes to come back.

"Are you hurt, madam?" he asked with surprising gentleness.

Not trusting herself to speak lest she blurt out a full confession of why Duke Volo wanted them, she shook her head.

He gave a nod and moved on. He asked Darby something, but she couldn't hear what. Darby shook his head, waited for the next question, then nodded. Link moved to Dermot.

"Why did those men stop you?" he asked.

Evonne wondered if Link could sense that Dermot normally did the talking for them. And if he could sense that Dermot was the better liar of the three.

"We were servants at Duke Volo's estate," Dermot began. He went on to weave a tale that surprised Evonne with its inventiveness. Listening to his smooth tone interlace part truth and lie, she could almost forget that the sergeant hadn't been wrong in his accusation.

Dermot told Link that Volo had taken an unrequited interest in Evonne, and he and his brother had gotten into a scuffle with Volo's personal guards when they rescued her from his chamber.

Link nodded thoughtfully. "How did you get away?" he asked.

"Darby used to work the stables and we managed to sneak down to them using the corridors set aside for messengers."

"You stole horses?"

Dermot hung his head. "Yes, sir, we did. But we left them at the end of the trail when we came upon these woods." In truth, the horses had gone lame and they had had to leave the rides behind.

"That was not smart," Link said. "Commendable, but not smart. That was probably what led those men to you. Why did they say you stole something of great value—surely horses couldn't have been worth that much."

"Pride, Sir Link," Dermot said. "We stole the Duke's pride. He wanted Evonne in his bed, but she didn't want to go. We stopped him and took his pride. To somebody as arrogant as the Duke, there is no greater thing of value."

Link nodded again. "Where are you bound for?"

"Lathander," Dermot and Darby said together. Both men had different reasons for choosing that town.

Link laughed and sheathed his sword. "That is my destination, too. I'm sure you won't mind traveling together, will you?"

The three thieves shared a glance. Traveling next to a man who forced four fearsome fighters to back away from their prize was the last thing the thieves wanted.

"Of course not," Dermot said with another false looking smile.

****

Chapter Two

"Maybe you could teach me some of those sword moves, Sir Link," Darby said.

"Are you a swordsman?"

The quartet had been traveling most of the day. They had stopped once the sun was past the point of providing enough light to see by in the increasingly thick wood. Link had mumbled something about there still be a good hour of light left, but not enough to work through the dense ceiling of leaves.

Their small fire quivered in its circle of small stones. Link crouched next to the fire and worked diligently over a small pan from the shoulder pack he had carried with him. Evonne discovered he'd left the pack tucked in the shadows of their old camp before confronting Volo's men.

From the pack he had withdrawn four carefully wrapped sausages and several jars of spice that he was now using to flavor the meat.

Setting the pan on a stone in the center of the fire, Link replaced the spices and cinched the pack closed.

"No. I used to watch the guards practice in the courtyard, though," Darby said. "Something about swords always fascinated me."

"Well, if you'd like," Link said, "I can teach you some forms, but there's more to a sword than just ways to stand. A blade is a very heavy responsibility. It's the responsibility of life and death.

"It would amaze you how easy it is to lose control and commit an act that is yours to carry for life." He poked the sausages with the point of his knife. Pink juice ran from the puncture marks.

A thin cloud of smoke rose from the pan and wafted across the camp. Evonne's stomach growled at the wonderful smell of spices and pork.

Darby heard and smiled at her. She smiled back. He always had a smile for her; even while they were lowly servants at Volo's estate, he could look to her and spark a feeling of lightness in her.

It was a mystery to Evonne why a handsome man like Darby took an interest in a frumpy kitchen washgirl like her. Self-conscious, she ran a hand down her dull brown hair. Her hair hung limp from her scalp and framed her small face that always seemed too narrow whenever she looked into a mirror.

"I think I could handle the responsibility," Darby said.

Link turned the sausages as they cooked. "After dinner I'll show you some forms."

"It'd be a waste of time," Dermot said, walking from the brush with a stack of broken sticks balanced on his folded arms. "You shouldn't listen to my little brother, Sir Link." He deposited the firewood on the ground next to the fire. "Darby's been begging me to teach him how to use a sword for years now."

"You're a swordsman?" Link asked in a neutral tone.

Dermot gave a wide smile and sat on a tree stump at the edge of the camp.

"He was a serf for one of Volo's knights," Darby said softly.

Link looked from one brother to the next. "Why didn't you teach him, then?"

Dermot cackled. "Tell the man, little brother."

Darby just studied his boots.

Evonne sighed and leaned toward Link. "Dermot says Darby is too stupid to learn how to use something like a sword." She hated seeing Darby belittled by his brother, but she hated even more that Darby believed what Dermot said about him.

"Nonsense," Link declared. "I haven't known you long, Darby, but I suspect you are a person of great empathy. And intelligence is required to be empathetic to another person."

Darby looked up. His eyes shining with the adoration of a child being praised. "Really?"

Link nodded. "I'm sure Evonne would agree with me."

Evonne felt her face grow warm as the eyes of everyone in the camp turned toward her. Why couldn't she have just kept her mouth shut? Because Darby was being insulted, a voice said in the back of her head. "Ah, y-yes," she stammered.

"There, you see?" Link gave a nod that finalized the subject before Dermot could raise objection. "Are you done readying those sticks, Evonne?"

"Yes." While he had been rummaging for the sausages, Link had asked Evonne to hew the ends of three sticks down to a sharp point. She gathered the sticks up and handed them to him.

He thanked her as he took them. The thanks caught her off guard. At Volo's estate, people rarely thanked her—or any other servant—for anything.

Using the edge of his knife, Link cut the ends of the sausages off and then skewered each sausage with a stick. Lifting the still smoking meat from the pan, he shook the excess juice off, and handed the stick to Evonne. He did the same for Darby and made Dermot come down from his tree stump to eat next to the fire.

With the sleeve of his cloak wrapped around his hand, Link removed the pan from the fire and set it aside, leaving the ends of the sausages to sizzle in the pool of hot drippings. He stabbed the remaining sausage with the point of his knife and sat back to eat.

Following his lead, Evonne bit into her sausage. The taste of well-seasoned meat made her eyes water with pleasure. It had been two weeks since her last meal that did not involve leaves or berries.

Once finished with her sausage, Evonne asked Link why he had cut off the ends.

"Well," he said, "I plan on making a broth tomorrow night and the ends will lend flavor. I figured the three of you wouldn't mind giving up a bite of meat if it meant having a pot of soup that would last us until we reach Lathander."

Dermot leaned over and peered at the still smoking pan. "You could have asked us."

"Do you really think we'll reach Lathander that fast?" Evonne asked.

Link smiled and jerked a thumb toward his pack. "If that man that sold me his maps of the area was honest, yes, we should be just about there. Plus, I know some tricks to traveling in forests so we should make good time tomorrow."

"You seem to know a lot of tricks," Dermot said. "What is a man of your rank doing way out here? What did you say your title was again?"

"Knight of the Triforce," Link answered softly. "And I'm just a simple traveler. I hold no better rank than you or anyone else."

"Where are you traveling to? Besides Lathander, that is," Darby said.

Link smiled slightly. "I'll know when I get there."

"Yes, but—" Dermot began.

"We're running low on daylight, Darby," Link put in. "If you want to learn some forms, I would suggest we begin now."

"Okay." Darby jumped to his feet. "I'll find a branch that I can use as a blade. Oh, unless I could...?" He gestured to Link's sword.

"I don't think so," the Knight said. "It wouldn't like you." He stood and followed the younger Westlin brother into the thicket.

Evonne's gaze went to Dermot, but quickly turned away when she discovered that familiar scowl waiting for her.

~

That night Evonne lay with her back to the built up fire. Link had stacked plenty of wood on the blaze so it would last until Darby's watch was over.

There had been an augment over who would take which watch, or rather who would not take any watch. She hadn't meant to listen, but had heard the three men discussing whether she would be required to watch the camp. Darby had said no, but Dermot insisted that she be made to take middle watch—the hardest, for the one on that watch would sleep only two hours before being shook awake, and then it would be another few hours of rest before morning.

Link had finally called truce and said he would take middle watch. Evonne was grateful, but too scared to thank him for she did not know what he would require of her in return for his sacrifice.

She watched through half-closed eyes as Link readied his bedroll.

"I'd be dead several times over," Link said finally, "if I hadn't learned how to recognize when people were feigning sleep. Ask your question, Evonne."

She sat up with a start. "I-I don't have a question."

"You should." He settled on the bedroll. "I would have a hundred questions."

"Well...ah...I was just wondering why you stopped. Why you helped us."

"Because it was the right thing to do," he said. "Because I like to think you or one of your companions would do the same if the table were turned."

"Oh." She didn't think she would have helped; she wasn't brave enough. She didn't know about Dermot—maybe if there was enough money involved—but she was sure Darby would have. "Thank you for doing so," she said before conscious thought caught up with her.

He smiled. "Thank me by remembering today if you ever come to a crossroads. The reward for aid given just might be your own salvation. Goodnight, Evonne."

"Night." She moved to turn away from him. His words of salvation had sparked a surge of guilt stronger than the guilt caused by Dermot's scowl. 

He said her name causing her to look back. "Yes?"

"You worked in the kitchen, didn't you?"

The strangeness of the question puzzled her. "Yes," she answered. "How did you know?"

He smiled again. "You have brass underneath your fingernails. I assumed from scrubbing pots."

Evonne's heart missed a beat in fright. She gave a single nod and a smile that she hoped didn't look too nervous and turned away from him.

Evonne waited until the count of one hundred before slipping her hands out of her blankets. In the warm glow of the blazing fire, she picked at her fingernails. Flecks of gold, not brass, and not from pots, fell to the ground next to her mattress of sticks and pine needles.


	2. The Sleeping Dog Inn

****

Chapter Three

It took another three and a half days of hard travel to reach Lathander. Located near the Jidra River and a heavily trotted road leading to Calatia, Lathander was a bustling, lively town. People of every shape and color mingled along the main road that ran from one end of the city to the other. Tents with bright flags and banners decorating them lined the street.

"This is Traders' Row," Link said over the noise of people buying and selling.

Evonne had never before experienced such an overwhelming sensory explosion. Smells of meat cooking, candy boiling, animals of every sort, and too many people pressed together assaulted her nose. All about her merchants held out wares and shouted prices that declined as their marks drifted farther away. In one tent an entire side of beef hung from metal rings while a heavy-set man in a blood stained apron cut it up for buyers.

Evonne passed a petite woman sitting in an open-topped booth painting a landscape on ceramic tile. Painted tiles about the size of her hand littered the booth. Evonne bent to examine a tiny bust of a beautiful woman with flowing blonde hair in front of a grand castle with three towers. Instantly a young boy of seven or eight, his eyes hardened by a life of living from sale to sale, was by her side.

"Fifteen rupees," he said.

Dermot came up behind her and grabbed her arm. "Get outta here, kid," he said with a scowl. "She isn't buying."

"You're pretty, lady," the kid said, undisturbed by Dermot's hostility, "so for you...I say ten rupees."

Dermot sighed and pulled Evonne away from the booth. "You know they're desperate when they break out lies like that," he said.

More tents and booths with fascinating things in them flashed by as Dermot dragged Evonne through Lathander's midway. She saw woodworkers crafting everything from toys to recreations of famous sculptures out of tree stumps. Geese, cuccos, lambs, and even a tiny pony the height of Evonne's waist wandered about Traders' Row. From the corner of her eye, Evonne spotted five women wearing more sequins than cloth putting lit torches in their mouths and spiting out flame.

Evonne had never seen anything like Lathander before. It was both exciting and frightening.

She and Dermot caught up with Link and Darby when the latter group stopped in an open-air tent where women and children ran about with empty glasses and pitchers of water. Evonne did a double take: they were selling water!

Link waved one of the little girls over and bought four glasses of water from her. He and the child passed the glasses to Dermot, Darby, and Evonne. The girl left them with a smile and short bow.

The former washgirl stared at the beverage stupidly.

Link gave an easy smile. "It's a custom," he said. "In old days, people on the road would enter the city tired and parched and the water bearers here would offer them a drink. It's a sign of friendship."

"Sounds like they cornered the market," Dermot said.

Link raised his glass as though the elder Westlin brother had made a toast.

"Will we be able to get rooms at the inn?" Darby asked. "It seems so crowded here."

Link sipped his water. "You should see Lathander at harvest time—this is slow compared to that. The locals joke that it's so tight on Traders' Row the thieves can't even lift a purse."

A muscle in Evonne's cheek twitched at that comment.

"In answer to your question, though," Link continued, "yes, we should be able to find a room. There were four inns the last time I was here, and I wouldn't be surprised if now there were more."

"How long ago were you last through Lathander?" Dermot asked.

Link shrugged. "The last time the roads led here."

A long, hard glance passed between Link and Dermot.

For the past three days, Evonne knew, Dermot had been testing Link's limits. She remembered that whenever a new servant would come to the estate, Dermot would do the same thing he was doing now. He would push and push until it was clear to the new servant who would dominate the relationship.

Pack strength, he used to call it. Wolves did it to decide who would lead the pack, who would be best for the pack, so why couldn't man adopt the same strategy?

But Link wasn't backing off like all the servants did. He wasn't openly hostile with Dermot, in fact he sometimes considered him with a look of thoughtful humor. Only in a few unguarded moments, like now in the open-air tent, did Link let his expression darken.

"Maybe we should start for one of those inns," Evonne said, breaking the sudden tension in the air. Her heartbeat doubled whenever there was tension. She knew Dermot, if pushed, would not be above injuring someone.

For a moment, something dark passed in Link's eyes; it was the same glare he'd given the sergeant and knights back at the clearing. Then it was gone and he was again nothing more than a pleasant traveling companion.

"I think that would be an excellent idea, Evonne," he said.

At the first inn they found, a large man in a white shirt and black trousers had spotted them approaching and tried frantically to wave them back. When they didn't stop, he shouted, "No rooms," and ran inside, slamming the inn's wooden door behind him.

Link considered the shut door with a look of surprise. "No vacancies?" he said.

Dermot gave a whimsical glance about. "Maybe someone stole his sign."

"Maybe Lathander doesn't have a sign painter," Darby said. "A town can only have so much."

Link and Dermot smiled; Evonne laughed.

The next inn they came to was the Sleeping Dog Inn. A rickety sign hung above the two-story building's entranceway by two rusty chains. On the sign, underneath the inn's name, was a small stencil of a dog curled up on a rug.

A sweaty woman named Mistress Gayla ran the inn and tavern—Evonne suspected from the type of people in this part of town that the bar brought in more money than the inn—and she said there was plenty of room for the party.

Everyone would be able to have his or her own room. Evonne was anxious for a bath and the feel of a real bed underneath her while she slept. The thought of a pillow and mattress, no matter how lumpy, was mouthwatering to one unaccustomed to traveling so far. Indeed, she realized for the first time, this was the farthest she'd ever been from the estate in her life.

The common room of the Sleeping Dog was rectangular with the entrance in the far left corner and a staircase leading up in the far right. A bar nearly the length of the room itself dominated the room. Tables and chairs were located about the edges of the common room, opening the floor for dancers or entertainers. The air was thick with the stink of old pipe smoke, stale ale, and an underlying scent of vomit.

Link followed Dermot, Darby, and Evonne into the inn. He stood for a moment taking in the sight and smell of the common room and finally said, "Well, let's find our rooms."

And so their short stay at the Sleeping Dog Inn began.

~

Four hours, and an entire cake of soap, later Evonne again entered the common room. Twilight had already set in and the room was beginning to fill with local patrons looking for cheap ale and travelers looking for cheap rooms.

She spotted Darby sitting at a table near the door. He smiled and beckoned her over. She returned the smile without thought and started for him. Evonne had done her best to clean and repair her dress while in her room, but help was limited for a garment that had been through weeks of arduous travel on back roads.

Using a small sewing kit Link had lent her from his pack, Evonne had taken an inch from the dress's hem, cut that material into patches, and used them to cover most of the rips and holes. As she now made her way across the crowded common room, however, Evonne was acutely aware of that missing inch of hem.

The bottoms of her knees were showing! When she felt cool air through her stockings, she blushed and wanted to run back to her room. When she caught Darby looking at her knees, that urge was like a physical force pulling at her.

Fighting embarrassment, Evonne somehow managed to keep walking forward. Darby rose like a gentleman as she approached the table. She saw Dermot sitting across from him and her smile wilted. He did not stand.

Darby took her arm and helped her into a chair—just as he had seen Duke Volo do whenever a noblewoman visited the estate. Evonne was between Darby and Dermot.

"You look nice," the younger Westlin brother said.

Evonne didn't know what to say in reply, so she just smiled. She looked away and ran her fingers through her dull brown hair. A dress was repairable, but little could help hair that was as limp as a deflated balloon.

"About time you got down here," Dermot said. "We haven't had a minute to speak openly since that bloody Knight showed up."

Darby looked over his shoulder. "Do you think he suspects?"

"I don't know," Dermot said with a long sigh. "He might, but he also let us stand watch over him at night. I'm going to work on the assumption that he thinks we're lying about something but doesn't know what."

"Why is this taking so long, brother?" Darby asked, his tone slightly panicky. "You said this would be over in a few days. You said we were nothings at the estate and no one would miss us—that no one would miss _it_."

"I did miscalculate how long it would take the guards to notice the theft," Dermot admitted. "But the plan is still going forward."

"If you hadn't thought yourself better than the guards, you wouldn't have miscalculated," Evonne muttered.

Dermot's eyes flashed. "You listen to me, girly, you're part of the reason we're even out here. I wanted this to just be Darby and me, but little brother here didn't want to leave you behind. You want to blame somebody for your aches and pains, blame him not me." He turned to Darby and snapped his fingers. "Let's see it."

Darby gave another nervous glance about and then reached into the pocket of his vest. He withdrew a round object wrapped in cheesecloth that was nearly as wide as the palm of his hand. He set it on the tabletop between them.

Evonne looked at that bundle of hastily wrapped cloth with aversion. Only two weeks ago that object had seemed like the answer to all of her impossible dreams, but now it was just a reminder that the life she had known was over. The incident with the soldiers at the camp and finalized the fact they could never go home. All that she had known...friends...family...all gone.

Evonne, the washgirl that had never been so far from home in her life, suddenly felt very cold and very alone. Underneath the table, she reached for Darby's hand.

Leaning forward, Dermot parted the cloth revealing a fist sized ruby. The blood colored gem caught the flickering lamplight and shattered it into a hundred little shards across its surface. The left corner of the ruby was chipped from when Darby's digging tool broke while prying at the jewel's settings. It had been Evonne, in a panic, that pulled at the gem after the tool broke with hands set like claws, like an animal digging at the hide of a fresh kill, and pulled the stone free. It was then that flecks of the gold setting had gotten underneath her fingernails.

Dermot eyed the stone hungrily.

"Can you still sell it?" Darby asked. "Or did you miscalculate that, too?"

So taken with the ruby was Dermot that he didn't even notice the hostile tone in the question. He had promised Darby and Evonne long before they had actually taken the gem that he knew of a man in Lathander that bought rare items at good prices. And, he had told them, there would be no questions asked about where the prize had come from.

The elder brother nodded. "He's here. I'll slip away tonight and meet with him."

Darby nodded and reached for the ruby. Dermot got there first. He grabbed Darby's wrist and held it above the stone. "I'll take it from here, little brother," he said. "He might want to buy it tonight."

"Do you really think it'll be that quick?" Evonne asked.

"It had better," Dermot said, wrapping the gem and slipping it into his pocket, "because we only have enough rupees to stay here another night. And with that Knight..."

As though on cue, Link walked into the common room. He paused at the bottom of the stairwell and appeared quite impressive in a fresh blue tunic, dark trousers, and boots that were polished to a fine shine. He'd left his cloak in his room, leaving the hilt of his king's sword visible for the world to see. The Knight of the Triforce scanned the room with a searching, hawklike gaze.

He spotted the three thieves and started for them.

"Perfect," Dermot muttered dryly.

Link smiled in greeting. "Everyone's rested and refreshed, I see. Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Ah, no, of course not," Darby said.

Link slid over a chair from an empty table and sat across from Evonne. "I was going to order some dinner, would any of you like to join me?"

As one, Darby and Evonne looked to Dermot. He started to minutely shake his head, but Link jumped in when he read the unspoken question: "It'll be my treat. I insist as repayment for keeping me company on the road." The Knight waved over a serving wench.

"Actually," Evonne began, "we should tha—"

Dermot kicked her ankle, cutting her off. He shot her a dark frown.

A tired looking woman with dark ringlets that bounced as she moved walked up. She wore a green dress with a faded white corset; her arms and shoulders were bare. Evonne did a double take at the cut of the corset; the poor wench looked like she was going to pop out of the dress. And Evonne had been worried about the bottom of her knees showing!

Darby noticed the woman's dress, blushed, and looked away; Dermot grinned and let his eyes linger; Link didn't appear to notice. He joked with the server, made her laugh, and ordered four bowls of the inn's best stew.

"I hear several of the locals put on a music show in the evening," Link said after the woman was gone. "That should be worth staying for."

Dermot leaned back in his chair, it creaked underneath him. "I was thinking about hitting Traders' Row tonight and seeing what sort of action goes on there after dark."

"Be careful what sort of action you look for," Link cautioned.

"I can handle myself."

A smile lit Link's eyes but did not touch his lips. "I'm sure."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

"So," Evonne said, breaking the quiet, "Link, how long will you stay in Lathander? You seemed to be traveling somewhere else, but never said where."

"Restlessness takes me from time to time," Link said. "I leave Hyrule for a spell, travel wherever the road takes me, meeting those that happen to be sharing the same path, if only for a short time, and return when the restlessness has left me."

"You must lead a very interesting life," Darby said.

"It has been that," Link answered with a nod.

The food arrived then. The woman with the low cut dress and dark ringlets expertly balanced four steaming bowls of lamb stew and four tankards of ale. She bent to place the bowls and drinks on the table, giving an even more impressive view of her cleavage. Darby suddenly became very interested in his thumbnails. Evonne felt her face heat at the libidinous display in front of her.

"Very mouthwatering," Dermot said. His eyes never leaving the server's bust line.

The woman ignored him and turned to Link. "Will there be anything else?"

"Thank you, no," Link said, never looking away from her gaze.

She smiled and winked at him before moving off.

"Dig in, everyone," he said, helping himself to a large bite of stew.

The food was delicious. Evonne knew that even if she hadn't been half starved, she still would have finished the whole bowl. The ale was stronger and had a much sharper taste than the stuff Duke Volo normally drank. Sometimes, at the estate, Evonne and other servants had sampled Volo's 'good drink.'

"Your Hyrule sounds like a lovely place," Evonne said when they were done eating. "Why don't you tell us more about it?"

The Knight sipped his ale and took on a very thoughtful look. "It is a lovely country, but it is the people that make it beautiful. There you can find people of all backgrounds and classes. It is a tapestry woven by generations into a rich cross-thatch of hopes, fears, loves, hates, dreams, and nightmares. In all my travels, I have never found another place like it."

Underneath the table, Darby's hand again found hers. "Do you have anyone special there?" he asked. "A wife, I mean."

Link gave a wistful smile. "A wife, no, but there is one that I miss more than the country itself."

"I would think that would be enough to kill any restlessness," Darby said, giving Evonne a sidelong glance.

Link shook his head. "Things are only that simple in stories. This is real life, and she and I both have obligations in it."

Evonne wanted to ask more—the warmth of the ale in her system had given her the courage to be so bold—but the look in Link's eyes made it clear he would not discuss this woman any longer. He set his tankard down and was again an enigmatic Knight of the Triforce. "They're setting up," he said, looking to the side.

Evonne followed his gaze, and saw five men with crudely carved flutes and ocarinas taking up position on a raised platform near the bar.

The evening's music show was beginning.

People crowding the bar also saw the musicians setting up and applauded.

The music began low. Each band member picked up a slow, single note melody. Then, the tone, and notes, began to increase. It became a rhythmic tune that seemed to beg audience members to clap and stomp their feet in step with it.

Several couples rose and took to the dance floor.

Link watched them with a slight smile. Evonne wondered if he was thinking about the woman back in Hyrule. He turned his attention back to the table and looked at Darby.

"Darby?" he said expectantly.

"Yes?"

Link closed his eyes and exhaled. "Aren't you going to ask Evonne to dance?"

The youngest Westlin brother looked flabbergasted. "I, ah, well—" He turned to Evonne; desperation and fear mixed together in his brown eyes. "Would you like to dance?"

Suddenly the question was on her shoulders. Evonne felt the eyes of everyone at the table on her. "Ah...sure."

"It may not be a ringing endorsement," Link said, "but I'd take it if I were you, Darby."

And then there didn't seem anything else to do but stand and head for the dance floor. Taking a deep breath, and trying to calm her pounding heart, Evonne took Darby's proffered hand and let him lead her forward.

~

Dermot frowned and sighed as one dance became two. Out on the quickly crowding floor, Darby and Evonne spun in a joyous, if somewhat awkward, dance. They laughed and moved together across the dance floor in step with the rhythmic music.

"They're young," Link said, following the elder Westlin's gaze. "Let them have their fun."

It struck Link, then, that he had talked to Dermot as though they were of the same age, when in reality Dermot was still several years younger than he was. Experience suddenly weighed heavy on his shoulders.

"She distracts him," Dermot said.

"Isn't everyone entitled to that sort of distraction every now and again?"

Dermot turned to the Knight. "Not when there are important things to be done. _I_ am his brother."

"Yes, you are," Link said. "And for that reason you should be happy he has found someone that makes him smile."

"He doesn't love her," Dermot said almost to himself. "He is infatuated with her, perhaps, but not in love."

Link shrugged. "For the one experiencing it, does that distinction really matter in the beginning?"

"You don't understand, Link," Dermot said, leaning forward as though telling a great secret. "Darby has always been...slower than others. I have looked out for him since he was born, and I'm not going to let a harlot with a pair of soft legs hurt him."

Link didn't agree with that characterization, but didn't press the point. "Sometimes, the best way to protect someone is to let him or her make his or her own mistakes," he said.

Dermot drained his tankard and pushed to his feet. His left hand brushed his vest pocket, as though feeling for something inside. "Perhaps," he said, "but not in this case. You don't know all the details." With that, he turned and walked to the door. He vanished into the night.

"No," Link said, "I don't know the details—not yet anyway."

"Can I get you anything else?" a voice said above him. It was the serving wench with the dark ringlets.

Link shook his head. "No, thank you."

She didn't leave at that; she looked to the dancers. "Sure looks like fun."

Link fought to keep a mischievous grin from his face. He could play along. "Yes, it does."

She nodded and pressed her lips together in a thin line.

"Did you happen to hear what I told my friend about needed distraction?"

The server's ringlets bobbed as she shrugged. "A girl hears things."

"Is that so?" He lost his fight with the grin. He stood and offered his hand in a formal gesture.

She smiled in response and followed him to the dance floor.

****

Chapter Four

"Hold! Hold, I say!"

Sergeant Relue held up a hand to shield his eyes from the spray of dirt and stones as the horsemen pulled to a stop in front of him. Gray cloaks concealed the three riders from head to knee high boot. The horses were similarly clad in colorless battle dresses. The pommels of swords nudged through the center part of the riders' cloaks.

"Three!" Relue shouted. "I ask for reinforcements, and Volo sends me three men?!"

The trio shared a glance, and the center rider dismounted. He did not push back his hood, as Relue expected; instead he cleared the cloak away from the hilt of his sword.

The sergeant drew a breath in surprise. On the hilt of the blade was a silver medallion bearing Duke Volo's likeness. The three riders were blademasters. Men that practiced the forms of the blade day and night, striving for perfect harmony between art and death.

"What is your situation?" one of the still mounted blademasters said. His voice a cold, dry rasp.

"The thieves are in Lathander," Relue said. "My men have tracked them to an inn called the Sleeping Dog."

"And what of the Knight you wrote about?"

"With them at the inn," Relue said. "My men can take the thieves—they did before—but the Knight is yours."

The trio bowed in eerie unison and said, "As you command, Sergeant."

Relue couldn't suppress the shudder that ran up his spine.

~

Evonne knew she was quite drunk as she stumbled up the stairwell to her room. Walking beside her was Darby, also heavily inebriated.

She had never before tonight believed in magic—sure there were the tricks court jesters preformed with wires and mirrors—but not true magic that inspired people to be more than they were. Tonight, as she made her way up the narrow stairs that seemed to be moving of their own accord, with Darby against her side, so close she could feel heat radiating from his body, she knew she was feeling true magic.

The evening had vanished into a long twirl of one dance after another, and several tankards of the Sleeping Dog's house ale. For a few hours, there was no stolen gem, no Duke Volo to run from, and no Dermot to frown disapprovingly at her happiness. Evonne knew that Dermot was part of Darby, but she could not make herself feel any warmth for a man that had disapproved of her since their first meeting.

She didn't like to think about it, but knew that Dermot would shed no tears if Volo caught her.

Darby's foot caught on the last step and sent him falling forward. He reached for Evonne and grabbed her hand. She spun toward the stairwell wall as his weight slammed into her side.

Darby's other hand caught the wall next to her head, keeping him from crushing her. A moment of silence passed as she stood pinned between the wall and Darby's warm body...then they exploded in laughter.

Evonne did the only thing that seemed right: she kissed Darby. This was not their first kiss; that honor had gone to a quick peck shared a week before the theft when she had left the kitchen early to help Darby shuck the stables.

This was no quick peck, however. Evonne's already intoxicated brain swam with sensations. A warmth that the best ale in the world couldn't produce slowly spread across her crest and worked its way lower.

Darby pulled back and his open mouth worked to form words. An apology? A confession of love? Something else? Evonne didn't wait to hear; she grabbed the lapels of his vest and pulled his mouth down on hers once more.

The warmth had reached her lower body and she could feel her thighs tingle with need. Somehow, she and Darby had disengaged themselves from the wall and were now fumbling their way down the hall.

His hands roamed her homespun, colorless dress. She felt his touch and imagined him touching other places...personal places.

Darby's fingers worked their way up the buttons on the back of her dress, but he did not unclasp the fasteners. His thumb tickled her spine. He grasped her hair and gently pulled her head back.

"Stay with me, please," Evonne gasped. She saw the desire in his eyes. She knew he would stay, she knew and—

"No," Darby said, his tone surprisingly firm. "Not yet. When this is done, when Dermot has sold the ruby and the plan can continue, then we can be together."

The arousal Evonne had felt before quickly vanished in a hot rush of anger. "The plan is over, Darby!" she shouted. "It's not going to be as we planned!"

He shook his head insistently. "Dermot said—"

"I don't care what Dermot says," Evonne said. "He just lies to get his way. He's always done that."

"Dermot has tried to make things good for us," Darby said. "He might lie from time to time, but he is really a good man."

"Why can't you see him?" Evonne pressed the palms of her hands to her forehead. "Everyone sees him as the trouble maker he is—I think Link even suspects something. You cannot possibly be so stupid that you can't see what everyone else does!"

The last sentence slipped out before reason could stop her.

Darby reeled back as though physically struck. An apology died on her tongue when she saw the look of hurt in his eyes.

Wordlessly, the young Westlin turned and half walked, half ran to his room. He fumbled thrice before getting the door open. He rushed inside and before the door closed, she heard a choked sob escape his throat.

Evonne leaned heavily against the wall. "Stupid," she said. "I am so, so stupid."

~

Dermot entered the Sleeping Dog Inn at a full run, not even noticing if any of the earlier clientele had stayed to this late hour. Moving quickly across the empty common room, he took the stairs two at a time to the inn's second story.

Survival was forefront in his mind. Dermot had spent his entire life building an arsenal of tricks, schemes, and stories centered wholly on surviving anything the world could throw at him. And he knew that he would have to use the entire arsenal to keep Darby and himself safe now.

'Volo's soldiers are in the city,' the thought was all consuming and he forced his legs to carry him faster. 'They're here in Lathander and it will be a matter of only minutes before they arrive at the inn.'

He hesitated for a moment in front of Evonne's door. Doubt touched him for the first time. There was a chance Link might be able to help with the soldiers—he had before, after all. Could there be a better way than this?

No, he decided. Darby's future was too important to risk by letting the Knight of the Triforce take charge. He, Dermot, would take care of his little brother, just like he always had before.

Dermot opened Evonne's door and hurried inside. The frumpy washgirl was sleeping on top of the oversized quilt; the collar of her gray dress open and her shoes kicked off, but she was still fully clothed. Dermot took that as a sign.

"Get up, Evonne!" he ordered.

At his second call, Evonne came awake with a start. She blinked stupidly at him. "Darby?" she asked in a slur.

'She's drunk,' Dermot thought. Another sign; she would be easy to convince. "Wake up, girl. Volo's found us and we have to leave now." He took her arm and pulled her up.

Mention of the Duke's name brought her back to the world of the living. "They're here?!"

"Yes. Come on." He guided her to the hall.

"What about Darby and Link?" she asked.

"They have already left," Dermot lied smoothly. "We are all going to meet in an area about a day's ride from here."

Dermot ran back down the stairs and across the common room, Evonne dutifully in tow, without incident. The washgirl had been the easy part of his plan; now it was luck that he relied on to finish what he started. Fortunately, Dermot consider himself a very lucky person.

There was a small stable behind the Sleeping Dog Inn for travelers that arrived by horse. It was tiny compared to what Darby used to work in, but it would do for what Dermot had in mind.

No longer having time for finesse, the elder Westlin smashed the barn's lock with a rock and threw the double doors open. In the distance, he could hear one of the stable boys shouting for help. Perfect.

Dermot found three horses in the stable. One was a weak looking mare—not good for the speed he would need—another was a proud looking stallion, but the last caught Dermot's eye. The chestnut gelding, perhaps five or seven years old, was unremarkable, but the tack stored in the back of its stall commanded attention. Among the thick blanket, wide saddle and dusty travel bags was a short sword sheathed in a scabbard housed on the seat assembly. When properly mounted, the hilt of the sword would come to a rest against the rider's right leg.

Dermot could feel the luck that had always helped him throughout his life whispering in his head. He knew that was the horse to take. He hastily readied the gelding for travel.

The horse was unsure about allowing Dermot to ride him, but a couple of swift jabs from Dermot's boot heels settled the animal. Once centered on the beast's back, he reached for Evonne's hand.

Another rush of doubt filled him when his callused hand closed around hers. Evonne's weight as she boosted herself up behind the saddle was a sort of counterpoint to the weight of the Duke's ruby still in his pocket. Would Darby forgive him for this? That question had never occurred to him before. His brother always forgave him for everything...but this was different.

It wasn't the most terrible thing he'd ever done...far from it, really, but this had a different taste to it. He felt as though he was doing something to harm his little brother, not to save him.

Evonne settled into place behind him. "You said we are meeting Darby and Link outside the city?" she asked.

"Yeah, in the woods."

If he wanted to back out of the plan, now was the time. Dermot drew a deep breath and decided. Darby would forgive him—as he always had—once he saw that Evonne's sacrifice was necessary for both their benefits. Once this business was over, all would be as it should be. Without another thought, Dermot kicked his heels and cast his new horse into a gallop.

And so their short stay at the Sleeping Dog Inn came to an end.


	3. The Tree In The Center Of The Clearing

****

Chapter Five

Darby lay in his room unable to sleep. He twisted and turned trying to get comfortable, but it was his thoughts of Evonne that kept him from resting.

She was wrong about Dermot, he knew, but something in her words had struck a cord deep within him. His brother had always been a forward thinker, always one to do what he had to do in order to meet his goals. When he was younger, Darby had looked at that drive with a heroic worship. People acted differently when Dermot was in the room. He demanded and received respect from those around him. People followed him eagerly because of that.

Even now, Darby still looked up to that ability.

Darby had never been one to catch the eyes of girls. Dermot always stared at attractive girls, made comments about them that caused Darby to blush, and talked them into coming with him to the loft above the stables.

Once, Darby had arrived at the stables early to do his work before the heat of the day set in and caught his brother with one of Volo's chambermaids. The woman, a redhead with wide yet attractive hips, was on top of Dermot, naked, and writhing and moaning with pleasure.

Darby still flushed red thinking about it. He had expected Dermot to be angry when he found out about his little brother spying on his tryst, but instead he laughed and said he hoped Darby enjoyed the view.

Stupid Darby, Slow Darby, was a ghost to the women of Volo's estate. Then, a few months ago, he met Evonne. Evonne was different than the other girls. She didn't talk down to him; she listened to what he had to say, as he did to her; and she showed no interest in Dermot.

He thought again of what she had said about Dermot. He knew his older brother meant well whenever he lied or cheated someone, but Darby couldn't think badly of someone that repeatedly just tried to protect him and their family.

Dermot was all he had in life, just as he was all Dermot had. Then there was Evonne. Dermot had tried to convince Darby that she wasn't good enough for him, but despite his brother's opinion Darby couldn't believe that.

That was why when Dermot came up with the plan to steal one of Volo's jewels and escape the estate to live the good life, Darby had agreed. It took little persuasion to convince Evonne to accompany them for she was no happier underneath Volo's rule than the Westlin brothers were.

Dermot had not been happy when Evonne joined their group. He had said she would be their downfall, that she would be the reason Volo caught them.

The plan originally had been to steal the gem and travel by horseback to Lathander. After Dermot sold the ruby to his contact, Darby would then have enough money to care for Evonne and Dermot would finally be free to explore the world. It would have been perfect.

But the horses had gone lame, Duke Volo's soldiers had caught them, Link had shown up, and the plan had come to a halt. Now Darby didn't know what to think or believe. He had to have faith that Dermot would come through and all would be as it was meant to be.

Yelling outside interrupted Darby's musings. Frowning, he moved to the room's small window, opened the shutters a crack, and peered out.

It was a stable boy calling out for help.

Darby was puzzled until a moment later when the sound of hoof beats overwhelmed the shouting. Horse theft was always a fear to the servants that worked in Volo's stables. Thieves would target horses for their prized coats and lineage, but Darby couldn't imagine there being any thoroughbreds worth stealing here at the Sleeping Dog Inn.

The hoof beats grew louder and the young Westlin realized the thief was going to pass right by the window. Darby debated between opening the shutter farther so he could get a good look at the thief or returning to his bed and pretending to be asleep. In the end, his love of the animals won over his fear and he leaned farther out the window.

There were two people seated on the stolen horse. They passed by in a blur, but Darby made out long brown hair on one rider—he assumed to be a woman—and the shape of the other as he hunched down against the horse's neck, spurring the beast to move faster. The two thieves were...Dermot and Evonne?

Darby blinked in surprise, but it was already too late to look again; the horse was out of view. Men, not stable boys, started shouting now. There was a moment of confusion then three riders in gray cloaks flashed by the window, following the trail of the stolen horse.

"Look," one of the remaining voices said, "there's one of them!"

Darby turned to the sound of the voice and saw two men clad in Volo's coat of arms standing on the street below. He gasped and ducked back inside his room. They had already seen him, though. They knew where he was.

Doubt gripped Darby. Why would Evonne and Dermot have left without him? Could they not have had a chance to see if he was awake? Had they even tried?

The inn's door was kicked open with a dull, far off sounding thud. Darby glanced around the room. He had to get out.

Jumping to his feet, Darby ran to the hall and looked about. He could hear footfalls as the soldiers lumbered their way up the narrow stairwell, their armor and weapons banged against the walls.

He swallowed past a dry throat and tried to clear his mind. He could run to the third floor, or the roof, but then what? Maybe he could hide in one of the empty rooms up there...Were there any empty rooms?

Link! Darby didn't know why he hadn't thought of the Knight sooner. Moving on shaking legs, the young Westlin ran to Link's door, moved to hammer his hand against it, but stopped when he saw the first soldier's head appear over the lip of the floor's landing. 

There was no time.

Reaching for the doorknob and hoping for the best, Darby opened the Knight's door and slipped inside. It shut with a gentle click behind him. He was sure that click was like a thunderclap to the ears of Volo's men.

Darby searched the dimly lit room with a desperate gaze. Link was asleep on top of the bed's coverlet; his boots carefully placed next to the bed; the laces of his blue tunic open and its tails pulled from the waistband of his trousers. The sword he'd kept at his side in the time Darby knew him was propped beside the bed table. Its hilt glittered enticingly in the moonlight.

Suddenly, as though possessed by its beauty, Darby knew he had to draw that sword. He would take that blade and fight Volo's men with it.

'My magic will give you the power to kill Volo himself if that is what you wish,' a voice seemed to whisper in his mind.

Before thought could stop him, Darby reached out and wrapped his hand around the hilt of Link's sword...instantly pain exploded in his hand and worked its way up his arm. Agony tightened his chest, making it impossible to breathe. Darby tried to scream, tried to withdraw his hand, but could do neither. He was trapped and knew instinctively that he was feeling magic. Deadly magic.

'You are not the Master!' the voice rasped in Darby's ear.

Link came awake with a startled gasp. His gaze took in the scene for a half second, and then he lunged across the bed for the hilt of the sword. He did not try to remove Darby's hand; merely touched the bloodcatch with his fingertips.

Like an attack dog being call off by its master, the magic released Darby and threw him across the room. The Westlin hit the wall and sank to the floor with a groan. The sharp pain was gone, but his hand and arm still tingled with pins and needles.

The door suddenly flew open and one of Volo's soldiers filled the doorway, his short sword at the ready. Darby recognized him as the same guard that had attacked him that first night in the clearing.

The soldier grimaced and took a long step forward, his sword coming up and catching the moonlight. Darby tried crawling away, but the magic of Link's sword had left him too ravished and weakened to avoid the guard. With a war cry, the short sword descended...and stopped scant inches from Darby's nose. Link's sword held the guard's easily at bay.

"Stand down," the Knight of the Triforce commanded. "This man is under my protection."

The guard withdrew his blade from the Master Sword and swung wildly at Link. The Knight turned his head away and brought his beautiful sword up sharply. Sparks flew as the two blades met. Link took a step back, but still kept himself in position to defend Darby if need be. He brandished his sword and waited for the next attack.

The guard drew back, suddenly unsure. He gave a glance over his shoulder as though considering something—Darby read the meaning clearly: there was another soldier, perhaps more than one, and the guard didn't know if he should engage the Knight or wait for help.

Link decided for the man; he brought his sword about and attacked. Blade touched blade and the two warriors fought within the narrow confines of the small room. Link twisted to the right, letting a swing pass dangerously close to his inner defense zone, and dropped to one knee as his sword came up.

There was a loud crack and hot metal fragments exploded from the soldier's right side. One landed in front of Darby and he was shocked to see it was a link of chainmail. Link completed his swing and, moving with the fluidity of a trained dancer, pushed himself up and twisted so he was behind the soldier. The tip of his sword was bloody, as was the guard's right side. With a look of relief, Link brought the hilt of his sword down on the base of the guard's neck. The bloodied man slumped to the floor and did not move.

Darby watched with wide eyes as Link stepped over the downed man and reached for the travel-worn boots next to the bed. Again booted, Link grabbed Darby's arm and helped him to his feet.

"That was not smart," he said.

Darby cast his gaze to the ground. "I know. I'm sorry. I don't know why you helped me after I tried to steal your sword."

The Knight gave a puzzled frown, then shook his head. "Stronger men than you and I have fallen under the Master Sword's spell, so don't worry about it. Come on, let's get your brother and Evonne and find out what's going on."

"We can't," Darby said. He explained about seeing Dermot leaving the Sleeping Dog with several soldiers chasing after him. "They left with so much noise," he added, "it was almost like he wanted to be followed."

Link sighed and ran his fingers back through his hair. "If he hadn't taken Evonne with him, I'd applaud his selfless act," he said.

"What are we going to do, Link?"

The Knight shook his head. "I don't know yet, but we can't stay here. Come on."

With the sword's finely tooled baldric over his untucked tunic, Link walked down the hall with the bared Master Sword in one hand and his pack in the other. He stopped to peer in each open door, then cautiously started down the stairs. Darby trailed close behind.

They reached the bottom landing and stepped down into the dark common room. Darby suddenly felt something blunt slam into his back, knocking the air from his lungs, and forcing him to the ground.

Link whirled about; his sword already seeking threats, but was stopped short by a bared blade laid on one shoulder.

"Drop it and keep your hands where I can see 'em," the second soldier said from his hiding spot next to the landing.

The Knight of the Triforce let his sword fall to the floor. "Why don't you pick it up?" he said as the soldier came into view.

"I'll see what else ya got hidden on ya first." The click of a bolt loading into a crossbow stopped the guard from reaching for Link. The soldier grinned. "Knew the Knight couldn't stop ya, Elis."

"Think again," a decidedly female voice said.

Darby did a double take. "Mistress Gayla?" he asked in disbelief.

Even Link looked surprised as he turned slightly to see the Sleeping Dog's caretaker standing behind the bar, loaded crossbow held with a steady grip. She was clad in robe belted at the waist and her hair was in wild sleep knots, but she looked very much awake. And very ready to use her weapon.

"If you were from Calatia or Hyrule," she said, "I'd let you be, but this is too far from Volo's estate for him to have much authority here. Now just put your sword away and step back."

"Why help him?" the soldier demanded, gesturing at Link. "He ain't done nothing to earn protection."

"He didn't break into my inn," Gayla said pointedly. "And, he has the Triforce on his sword. I was just a little girl when I last saw a Knight of the Triforce, but I never forgot it. You fear him enough to come for him while he sleeps, and that tells me all I need to know about you. Put the sword down!"

The soldier reluctantly sheathed his short sword and moved to a table Gayla indicated with her crossbow. He sat and placed his hands flat on the tabletop, as instructed.

Darby again climbed to his feet, and was unable to believe he was still alive.

Link gathered the Master Sword and drove it into the scabbard at his side. "Thank you very much," he said to Gayla. "I am deeply in your debt."

Gayla's gaze didn't waver far from Volo's man. "You're welcome, but I reward all people that I see are good. Another might have bartered for a better price in a town with six inns, but you accepted what I asked for without question. Others ogle my wenches, but you treat them like ladies."

Link inclined his head in a slight bow. "Either way, I am in your debt." He reached into his pack and withdrew a silver rupee. "This should cover the damages," he said, and offered it to Gayla.

Darby had never before seen a silver rupee, and did not know what its denomination was. Gayla seemed to though; she eyed the gem hungrily before backing away. "No," she said. "That's too much."

Link shook his head. "It is for the damage to the inn, the horse Dermot and Evonne stole, and—"he turned and pointed at the guard sitting in the corner, his hands still pressed to the tabletop—"that man's sword."

"What?" the guard and Gayla asked as one.

"If Dermot is planning what I think he is," Link said, "I'm going to need help. I want Darby armed."

"B-but I never finished my lessons," Darby stammered.

Link gave a dry grin. "I picked up my first sword at the age of eleven, Darby, and the blademasters of Hyrule didn't get around to teaching me until nearly ten years later. Long after I had proven to them that I could handle myself in situations their teachers never once dreamed of.

"Besides, I want you armed for appearances sake if for no other reason. Sometimes a bluff is just as good as overwhelming your opponent."

Gayla nodded and took the proffered rupee. "I will divide it equally, Knight," she said.

He nodded. "I know you will, Mistress."

Darby's head swam with the realization of the second sudden turn his life had taken in the last two weeks. He just wanted to wake up and find out it had all been a dream. He would gladly go back to shucking out stalls and wishing for the day that he could be the kind of husband Evonne deserved.

But he knew that would never happen. An endless nightmare had imprisoned him.

~

Minutes later, Gayla moved Volo's soldier upstairs and Link opened his map of the countryside across the bartop. Darby stayed quietly in the back of the common room studying the hilt of his new short sword. It wasn't as beautiful as Link's, but the black pommel with a silver tassel tied at the base of the hilt was most pleasing thing Darby had ever seen.

"I could use your help," Link said, looking up from the map.

"Me? What can I do?" Darby asked.

"I need to know where Dermot and Evonne are going," Link said.

Darby shook his head. "I don't know that."

"No, but you know how your brother's mind works. I need to know what he is thinking so I can plan our next move."

Darby thought, but couldn't think of what Dermot might be planning. The elder Westlin always considered his younger brother to be too stupid to help plan schemes. "Maybe we should just stay here," he said. "I'm sure that is what Dermot would want me to do."

"We can't stay, Darby," Link said. "Volo's men will be coming back when those guards upstairs fail to report in. The only reason we're still here is because I don't know where to go. You have to help me."

"But I don't know," Darby said.

Link sighed. "Evonne is with him, Darby. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Of course it does!" Darby shouted. "But what can I do? I'm only one ordinary person, not a Knight like you. I can't do anything to stop Volo or Dermot, so why should I even try?"

Link took two steps toward Darby, frustration alive in his blue eyes. "As I told you the first night we met," he said, "I am no better than you, or Dermot, or Evonne. I, too, am nothing more than a man. Yes, I bested the soldier upstairs and the two back at the clearing, but it wasn't because of any grand skill with a sword. I do have years of training, but all I did to win was apply strategy, intellect, and reason to the situation. Those men could easily have beaten me if they had done the same.

"You berate and belittle yourself with comments and believes; the reason you do this is not because of a conviction of your own small value, but a fear that they may not be true and then you would have to face the challenges of life without your ever-present self-deprecating shield.

"The future is a terrifying thing. Trust me, I know. But the highest calling in life is putting aside what others say about you and standing up and fighting for what you want and what you believe in. Everyone needs something like that, Darby. Otherwise, life is just one long ponderous march through the gray halls of monotony."

Darby tried to meet the Knight's gaze, but couldn't. "I'm sorry, Link, but I just don't have any belief like that."

Link ran his fingers back through his hair as he thought. "Evonne was with him," he finally said. "Why do you think that was?"

Darby shook his head. "I don't know."

"Then apply reason and speculate," Link said. "Either she noticed the guards and woke him, or he discovered the soldiers here and woke her. Given the state she was in when you took her upstairs—"

Darby flushed. "N-nothing happened between us," he stammered.

"It would be none of my business if something had," Link said. "Anyway, I would estimate Dermot found out about the soldiers, devised some sort of plan involving Evonne, and left here with her in tow."

"I guess that sounds right," Darby said, still unclear as to what his brother would have planned.

"Do you know what I think he's going to do, Darby?" Link's tone was slow and conspiratorial, as though he were telling a great secret.

Darby shook his head.

"I think he is going to take Evonne and give her to Volo's men," Link said. "I think he is going to try and broker a deal with her as the commodity and his and your freedom the price. You mean much more to him than Evonne does. He will do anything he has to in order to assure his coming out not only on top but with his control over you intact."

Darby wanted to argue, but didn't. He wanted to say that his brother would never do that, but didn't. Dermot was very protective of his family, and he saw Evonne as a threat to that family.

"I wonder how well Duke Volo will treat a woman that embarrassed him so," Link continued, his tone growing even darker. "Perhaps you should have stayed with Evonne last night; you could have showed her what it is like without pain...But I'm sure all will go as Dermot plans."

Darby was moving before conscious thought could stop him. He rushed forward, grabbed the front of Link's tunic, pushed him against the bar, and drew back a fist. Darby paused, then, unsure at what he was doing...or of whom he was trying to fight.

Surprisingly, Link smiled a full smile. "Well, Darby Westlin," he said comradely, "it's nice to finally meet you. Now, I need you to be honest with me and I need you to help me find Evonne and Dermot before injustice is carried out."

~

The cliff face was steep and slick with ages of lichen growth, but the strong youthful legs of their stolen gelding easily navigated the path. Once at the bottom of the cliff, Evonne promptly sat on the edge of an outcropping to rest while Dermot remounted the stolen horse. His fingers toyed with the hilt of the sword attached to the saddle.

"Do you think we lost them?" Evonne asked, rubbing her temples. With the light of dawn, a dull throb had begun in her head. That added to the relentless bouncing and hoof beats of the past few hours made her very regretful to have had so much ale the night before.

Dermot looked up at the top of the ridge. "We might have," he said, but didn't sound sure.

Evonne started to push herself up. "We have to keep the lead, then."

"No," he said quickly. "We can afford a short rest."

"Oh. Okay." She sank back down. "How far are we from the spot we are going to meet up with Link and Darby?"

"It's close," Dermot assured.

"Good." Evonne closed her eyes and tried to time her breath around the rhythmic pounding in her skull. "All of the soldiers seem to be chasing us, so Link and Darby should already be there—at the meeting place, I mean."

"Yes," Dermot answered noncommittally.

Evonne was quite for a long time. "It was nice of you to come for me," she finally said.

"What?"

"Well, Link and Darby were already gone when you woke me, so everything must have happened quickly. You could have ran, but you kept to your responsibility and came for me...Thank you for that."

There was a moment of silence, then: "Here."

Evonne opened her eyes and saw Dermot holding out the ruby wrapped in cheesecloth. She looked at him baffled.

"I want you to take it," he said. "You can throw it away or keep it locked away in a chest for all I care."

"But the plan...?"

Dermot gave a sigh. "I determined the plan to be over last night when I saw Volo's soldiers in Lathander." He glanced upward, then offered the gem again. "Take it, please."

Evonne reached out and hesitantly took it. It was heavy in her palm. She wondered if this was Dermot's way of finally giving her acceptance. If perhaps he was admitting to himself that she was a part of Darby's life.

"Ah, Dermot," she began, "I think you should know something. Last night Darby and I...well, I said something I shouldn't have and I think I hurt him."

Dermot's eyes narrowed. "You what?"

"I didn't mean to," Evonne said quickly, fearing to eclipse whatever good light Dermot was suddenly seeing her in. "When I get to the meeting spot, I'm going to talk with him. I'm going to tell him how sorry I am—and I _am_ sorry. I think maybe all three of us should talk."

The elder Westlin brother nodded slowly. "We'll do that," he said.

"There they are!" came a call from the top of the rise.

Evonne snapped her gaze to the sound of the voice and saw the same sergeant from the clearing several days ago, one of his troopers, and three gray enshrouded riders. She moved to remount the horse behind Dermot, but he stopped her with a raised hand.

"We don't have much time," Evonne said, panic clouding her tone. "The cliff face won't slow them for long."

Dermot drew the sword from the saddle sheath. "I know," he said. "I was feeling bad about doing this, but now that Darby knows what type of person you really are, I have a clear conscious." He let the sword's point rest on her shoulder. With a flick of his wrist, he could open her throat.

Without fully realizing it, Evonne gripped the ruby tighter. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

"You're staying here, Evonne," Dermot said. "Volo will have the mastermind of the theft, and I will have my brother. It will all work out in the end."

****

Chapter Six

Darby doubled his pace to keep in step with Link's determined stride. The pair left Lathander before sunrise and had been walking for the entire morning. Link was again clad in his long brown cloak that covered the hilt of his sword and swished about his legs with every step.

"The sergeant made no effort to hide his path," the Knight said, as they left the well-trotted trail of the town and entered the overgrown forest. Before them, broken branches and flattened shrubbery marked a clear line through the woods.

"I wonder how far ahead they are?" Darby asked.

Link shook his head. "We'll find them eventually," he said.

Again they pushed onward. Link hefted his pack over his right shoulder and walked through the underbrush with a surefooted ease of one comfortable with being in the forest.

"Aren't you scared?" Darby asked.

"Of what we might find at the end of this path? Of course," Link answered. "I don't want conflict, I only want to see justice served."

Guilt gnawed at Darby. He drew a deep breath, released it, and said, "Link, you should know something: Dermot convinced me to steal something from Duke Volo, and I convinced Evonne to help. We're guilty."

A smile played with the corners of Link's mouth. "Thank you for telling me, Darby, but I already knew."

"Oh. When?"

"Hurt pride doesn't warrant a high ranking military officer and three soldiers that pursue two men and a woman across the countryside," Link said. "I have dealt with many nobles in my time, and while many are petty, I have never met one that would go to such lengths only to extend his or her own embarrassment."

"So you knew since the beginning?"

"I suspected since the beginning," Link said. "I knew for sure when we were attacked at the Sleeping Dog. Evonne is a lovely lady, but I doubt Volo would spend so many resources just to return a woman who denied him."

Darby nodded and continued to follow the Knight in silence. He suddenly felt lighter for having admitted his crime. For the first time, he was giving voice to his transgressions.

"So what did you steal?" Link asked finally.

"At the edge of Volo's estate is a mausoleum for his family," Darby said, relief making the words spill out of his mouth. "At the end of the burial chamber is a gold plaque with the Duke's entire family ancestry engraved on it. It is framed by a jewel inlaid case; at the top of the plaque was a ruby the size of my fist..."

"And you took that ruby?" Link guessed.

"Yes." Darby sighed. "Dermot made it sound so easy and feasible. We were going to sell the ruby and everything was going to be better. We would have money to do whatever we wanted, go wherever we wanted, and Evonne and I were...well, everything was going to be good."

"I don't know what to say, Darby," Link said. "I'm not going to give you a lecture about the futility of crime because you should know that already, and looking at you now, I think that you do. You cannot go back and change the past, so right now you have to work on shaping your future. It might be nice to dream about Evonne at your side, but now is not the time for dreams."

"Knowing that we're guilty, is going to change you helping us?" Darby asked.

"No," Link said without pause. "I meant what I said about seeing to the safety of all. You are in the wrong, but so were Volo's men when they threatened to beat you. If you think I'm helping you because I expect something in return, or because I harbor some sort of dispute with Volo, you're wrong.

"I'm helping you, I'm helping Dermot, and I'm helping Evonne because I want to see justice done. If that means giving the gem back and escorting you out of the country, or traveling with you to Volo's estate and asking for him to show mercy for your crime, then that is what I'll do. We're in this together, Darby. That's the only way right will be served."

Listening to Link's oration and philosophy, Darby was beginning to realize that Link, like Dermot, commanded a certain amount of respect from people around him. But unlike Dermot, Link gave the same respect in return. People followed Link's lead not because he demanded it of them, but because he didn't ask at all. From him radiated a sense of equity that encompassed all without thought of personal gain.

Darby suddenly felt as though he was standing between two powers, and each wanted his servitude. It would be his own decision which power he would follow, and the time for making that decision was soon...

~

By the time dusk was beginning to touch the forest, Link and Darby could smell the familiar scents of an assembled camp: smoke, cooked food, and the sweat from hard worked horses.

Link took Darby's arm and quickly ducked off the trail. Careful to step only on flattened mats of pine needles and fallen leaves, the pair circled around the camp. Link withdrew fieldglasses from his pack and brought them to his eyes as he peered from behind a tree several yards from the trail.

"What do you see?" Darby asked in a whisper.

Link shook his head. "Not much; too much overgrowth. It looks like there are two tents at the far end of the camp—I see horses next to the larger of the two. I don't see any guards, however."

"Well," Darby said, "with two still at the inn, the sergeant should only have one soldier."

"Unless Volo sent reinforcements," Link pointed out.

Darby hadn't thought of that. "Do they have my brother and Evonne?" he asked.

Link swept the fieldglasses back and forth. "They took a young chestnut gelding?"

"That's what Mistress Gayla said," Darby confirmed.

Link lowered the glasses. "They're there."

Darby's shoulders slumped. "What are we going to do?"

"That's up to you, Darby," he said. "What do you want to do?"

"I want this to all be over," the young Westlin answered. "I want my old life back."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that is likely." Link thought for a minute. "I wish I knew what Dermot had done," he said. "He might have already made a deal with them—you might be free to do as you wish for all we know."

"Do you really think that's possible, Link?"

The Knight shook his head. "I really don't know. The sergeant didn't strike me as a stupid man, and your brother does seem like an accomplished negotiator. If the sergeant doesn't want bloodshed, only to return the ruby, then a deal could have been made."

Darby looked to the camp. "But Evonne wouldn't be free to go," he said.

"I can only assume, but I doubt it," Link said. "Dermot would have no reason for seeing to her freedom."

Darby felt a hard stone form in the pit of his stomach. He thought again to the two powers on either side of him. "Applying reason," he said, "Dermot would have given the ruby back, right?"

"If he hadn't already sold it, yes."

Darby turned his gaze back to the Knight of the Triforce. "What do you think?" he asked.

"I think the only way we are going to know if a deal has been made is to talk with Volo's men," Link said. "If you'd like, I'll do that while you wait for me here. I should warn you, though, that I don't want bloodshed either. If there is a deal that is fair to all people involved, I will stand with it."

Darby swallowed hard. "And where do you think two prisoners might be held in that camp?"

Link looked at him long and hard. "In the smaller tent," he said. "But I want you to think this through before you do anything, Darby."

Darby Westlin met the Knight's blue-eyed gaze and nodded. "I already have," he said. "My freedom won't mean much if Evonne has to pay the price of it. If there is no deal, and I rescue Evonne and Dermot from that tent, then Volo will still get his gem back and I will only be denying him from harming the woman I love."

"And keeping you, your brother, and Evonne from paying for a crime," Link added.

"Have you ever been banished from home, Link?" Darby asked, his tone growing heavy with maturity.

Link sat back on his heels. "Yes, I have been," he said quietly. "I can't stop you from going down there, but let me have a head start. Perhaps I can work something out that won't require heroics."

"Okay. Be careful, Link." Darby held out his hand.

Link took it and the two men shook hands. "I meant what I said about you being a very empathetic person, Darby," he said. "I'm sorry all this has happened."

They released hands and Darby stood. His new sword belt fell slightly and he hiked it back up. "Thank you for all that you've done," he said. "I know you said that you are only pursuing justice, but you have inspired me to think differently about many things."

Link came to his feet, nodded in reply, and turned back to the trail. He gathered his cloak about himself and started for the camp.

Darby waited to the count of two hundred before continuing to circle the camp, looking for an opening in the foliage that would give him the best path to the smallest tent.

He never saw the figure shadowing him deeper in the woods.

~

Link kept his hands tucked within the folds of his cloak, his left hand hovering near the hilt of the Master Sword. He drew a deep breath to calm his pounding heart and stepped from the underbrush into the camp of Duke Volo's soldiers. The lack of sentries concerned him; even if there were only two men, at least one should be on duty to guard the gem.

In the center of the clearing was an old tree that leaned heavily to right. Branches that stretched out from the massive trunk brushed across the forest floor at the edge of the camp. Link took in the sights of the camp: the fire had burnt down to white ash; the horses' tacks had been removed and set at the perimeter of the clearing; prints from heavy combat boots littered the ground—yet there was no sign of Volo's men.

"Hello!" Link called. "I am Link, Knight of the Triforce. I am here to discuss the gem that was stolen from your sovereign."

No answer.

"Oh, I don't like this," Link muttered. He started toward the tents, but a shuffle of movement behind him made him whirl about.

The sergeant from the day Link had met Dermot, Darby, and Evonne stood at the camp's perimeter. His sword was drawn and held at an easy position before him. "Hello, Knight," he said.

Link gave slight bow. "Hello, again, sir. I am here to discuss the fate of the three who stole a gem from your sovereign."

Sergeant Relue shook his head. "I have already made arrangements for those three," he said. "You, however, will hand over your weapon and return to Volo's estate for trial."

Link looked up in surprise. "What crime have I committed?" he asked.

"You interfered with my investigation and assaulted two—possibly four—of my men," Relue said. "For those crimes, you will face trial."

Link shook his head. "I was attacked first," he said. "Both at the clearing and at the Sleeping Dog. You made no effort to explain your position to me, just allowed your men to attempt to rob me."

"Hand over your blade now!" the sergeant said.

"What have you done with Dermot Westlin and his traveling companion Evonne?" Link asked, ignoring the demand.

Relue raised his sword as though calling for a charge and said, "Blademasters: attack!"

Three men suddenly dropped from the trees around the clearing, effectively surrounding Link. The men were clad in gray cloaks and brandished swords with silver medallions on the hilts. They moved their swords in slow sideways-figure-eight arcs.

"Light!" Link swore. He reached for the Master Sword but did not draw it. "I did not come to fight, Sergeant!" he said. "Call these men off and let's talk."

Relue shook his head. "I don't want a fight either, Knight. Just come peacefully with us and let Duke Volo decide your fate."

Link turned in a slow circle, keeping the blademasters in constant view, and considered surrendering. But he still didn't know what had become of Dermot and Evonne; and had no assurance that Volo's justice was indeed just. "No, thank you, sir," he said. "I prefer to choose my own fate."

The blademaster to his left was a blur. In two quick steps the man came forward and swung high and wide with his sword.

The Master Sword came up just as fast and blocked the swing before it could take Link's head from his shoulders. The Knight jumped back and landed several feet away. He quickly shrugged off his cloak and kicked it clear.

As the blademasters did the same with their cloaks, Link drew another calming breath and set himself for a fight.

~

Darby cut across the end of the camp opposite Link and the swordfighers, using the large tree for cover, and approached the small tent. He could hear the distant sounds of combat from the front of the camp, but could do nothing to help Link. He didn't know enough about swordplay to be useful in a fight, and knew that the combat would be pointless if they failed to save Evonne and Dermot.

Dropping into a crouch behind the tent, Darby drew his short sword and used it to cut through the canvas. Sword at the ready, he stepped into the tent.

It was dark inside; the only light being provided by the front flap and the slit he'd made, but Darby could easily make out Evonne's form as she lay on her side with her back to him. A white rag gagged her and rope made of hemp bound her hands and feet. 

He touched her shoulder, sparking a surprised jump from the former washgirl. "It's just me," he assured.

Evonne turned slightly and looked at him wide-eyed. She mumbled something around her gag.

"Wait." Darby used the edge of the sword to cut her free of the rope, then lowered the gag.

"What are you doing here?!" she asked as soon as the rag was gone.

"I came to rescue you and Dermot," Darby said.

"But you were free..."

Darby helped her into a sitting position. "It wouldn't have meant much without you." He glanced down and then met her gaze. "I'm sorry for what happened at the inn," he said. "I should have realized the truth of what you were saying—the plan _is_ over. Now we have to focus on the future, not dreams."

Despite everything, Evonne smiled. "Agreed."

"Is Dermot in the other tent?" Darby asked, looking about the narrow confines of the shelter. "I thought they would have kept you two together."

Evonne shook her head insistently. "Dermot isn't here," she said. "He tied me and left before Volo's men could capture him. He told them that I was the one who planned the theft, that I tricked you and Dermot into helping. He gave me the ruby for them to find and left...He's probably back at the Sleeping Dog Inn by now."

Darby stared at her dumbstruck. "How could he do that? Are you sure he told them you were the mastermind?"

Evonne sighed minutely. "I _heard_ him. He lied in order to win his own freedom. I don't know if Relue believed him or not, though."

Darby let the information sink in for a moment, then took Evonne's arms and helped her to her feet. "We have to get out of here," he said. "Link is fighting with three men out front, but we should be able to slip away around back."

Together they peered out the cut in the back of the tent, then started across the clearing. Again, Darby kept the large tree between them and the men in the front of the clearing.

They were half way to the clearing's perimeter when the bramble they were heading for began to shake and Dermot Westlin appeared from the shadows. "I can't let you do this, brother," he said.

"Dermot!" Evonne and Darby said as one.

The elder Westlin stepped fully into the clearing. "She's the ticket to our freedom, Darby," he said. "You have to leave her here."

"No." Darby shook his head and stepped in front of Evonne. "We leave this country together, or we serve our hard labor together."

Dermot frowned at his brother. "This is not the time for gallant speeches. This is real, not one of your stupid books back home. Get your head on what matters and think about this!"

"I am thinking about what matters," Darby said. "For the first time, I am." He raised his short sword threateningly. "Step aside, brother."

Dermot choked back a laugh. "Or you'll what? Kill me? I think we both know you don't have it in you to do that. Put that thing down before you hurt yourself." He walked toward them, but Darby didn't lower the blade.

Dermot came to a stop with the point of the short sword inches from his heart. He reached to his belt and fingered the hilt of the sword he'd taken from the stolen horse's saddle. "Don't start something you can't finish, Darby," he warned.

Evonne gripped Darby's arm. "Please don't do this," she said.

The young Westlin glanced from his brother to Evonne. His resolve started to fade—if he couldn't save Evonne this way, then how?

"Halt!" a baritone voice called from behind Evonne. "All blades down!"

The three thieves turned to see the triumphant face of Sergeant Relue. "Like dumb animals" he said. "A simple trap always works best."

Dermot's eyes widen in realization. "A trap?" he roared. "He used Evonne has bait to lure both of us in." He spun back to Darby. "I knew that little bitch would be the death of us!"

Heedless of the sword point near his chest, Dermot pushed Darby aside and rushed Evonne, his hands clenched like claws. Murderous rage burned in his eyes.

Darby stumbled away but regained his footing in time to see his brother slam in to Evonne, nearly knocking the woman from her feet, and wrap his hands around her throat. A hideous stream of curses escaped Dermot's throat as he tightened his grip. Veins strained outward on Dermot's arms as he shook and strangled Evonne.

Evonne brought her hands up to his, but her strength was no match for Dermot's anger. Her eyes bulged in pain and horrified realization that this was the end of her life.

Sergeant Relue called for order and started running to Dermot. "No! Stop, stop," he commanded. "Put the sword down!"

Sword? Darby looked down and saw that he still held the short sword Link had given him. He looked back to his brother. Evonne caught his gaze and let go of her attacker's hands; she reached out in one last pleading gesture.

Something inside Darby snapped. For Evonne was the one thing, the one person, that meant more than anything else to him. She wasn't worth more than his family—as Dermot had feared—she _was_ family.

Darby raised the sword and took a step forward. There was no resistance as the blade slid through Dermot's back and exited out his chest. Darby reached an arm around Dermot's shoulders and pulled with all his strength. Evonne fell back against Sergeant Relue while Darby and Dermot tumbled to the ground. 

A second seemed to stretch into an hour, and then one lone brother gave an anguished cry as he grieved to undo what he'd just done.

~

The Master Sword was a silver blur in the dying light of the day as Link stopped another strike aimed at his midsection. Quickly letting the blocked blade fall, the Knight jumped to the side, twisted, and stopped a second blademaster's sword from reaching him. Still another swordsman waited off to the side, looking for an opening in Link's defense.

Link had many years of swordplay behind him and an education from the best blademasters in Hyrule, but three well-trained soldiers at the same time was asking much. One of the blademasters would quickly put down any attack, giving an opening to the other two. With no other choice, Link fell back on purely defensive forms. 

The Knight backpedaled, trying to break the two-man team that had surrounded him since the beginning of the fight. The third blademaster, slightly shorter than the other two and with a crown of red hair, suddenly came forward into the fray and attacked, forcing Link to hold his ground.

The other two swordsmen pulled back, either to rest or to form a new strategy.

Link and the red headed blademaster crossed swords. Link slipped his sword about and angled his wrists sharply downward, thinking to throw his opponent's blade away. But the soldier anticipated that maneuver and pushed up as the Master Sword was coming around low and disengaged the two weapons.

The red headed blademaster spun and brought his sword about for a wide swing. Link had two choices: he could withdraw and hope for a better setup; or press the attack while the other two weren't in the fight. The ache spreading in his arms told him there might not be time for another setup. Link pressed the attack.

He snapped the Master Sword to the side to catch the blademaster's wide swing, and stepped in close. The two swords met with a flare of sparks. Link removed his right hand from the sword's hilt and drove his elbow into the red head's face.

The blademaster gave a startled yell and stumbled back, his sword already coming up in a basic defense form.

Link pushed relentlessly forward. He gave himself fully to the deadly magic of the Master Sword. He felt it rise up in his chest like a terrible, purifying white heat. The magic wanted blood, and it would have it. He was committed now.

The Knight feinted high and attacked low. The blademaster blocked and moved to riposte, but had to quickly parry Link's follow-through. He backpedaled and the Knight of the Triforce gained ground.

A sudden flicker of awareness behind him was the only warning Link had that the other two blademasters were coming to their comrade's aid. With no time to counter their well-coordinated pincher attack, Link let the sword's magic funnel downward to his legs and jumped.

He leaned into the leap and backflipped over the heads of the two blademasters. He landed solidly in a combat crouch and swung at the legs of the two soldiers.

In unison that would have been comical under other circumstances, the two men, one with dark straight hair and the other with dark curly hair, thrust their swords over their shoulders and blocked the Master Sword. They spun to face Link again.

Feeling more of his strength ebb away, Link filled his burning lungs with a deep breath. He caught Straight Hair's sword, held it down, and aimed a high kick at Curly Hair. The kick hit the blademaster's shoulder and threw his spin awry, knocking him to the ground.

For a moment, Link thought he would have another one on one shot with Straight Hair, but the red head was suddenly beside him and it was again two against one.

Link fell back, his sword spinning back and forth in one parry after another. Each solid hit against the sword's edge sent reverberations up Link's arms, sparking a twinge of pain along the way. He couldn't keep this up, he knew. Unless he could do something to even up the odds, he was going to lose.

He blocked Curly Hair's blade, sent it wide, and stepped toward Straight Hair. He ducked the swing aimed at his neck and slammed the heel of his left hand into Straight Hair's jaw. The man gave a grunt and stumbled to the ground.

Link sidestepped and launched into a roundabout form that would allow him to parry Curly Hair's next move and place him in a position to again attack Straight Hair. A brush of pain across his ribs, however, collapsed Link's form and sent him spinning away.

He brought his arms down over the source of the pain, but still kept his sword raised to ward off another attack. He struggled to understand what had just happened.

The red headed blademaster.

The third blademaster had come in behind the Knight and stabbed at his heart. If Link hadn't been spinning to attack the downed blademaster, that jab would have been fatal.

Link again backpedaled and ran a hand down his side, feeling for injury. He'd been very lucky: it was only a shallow cut. It did smart, though. 

The two blademasters still standing moved in for the kill.

A wail of grief suddenly filled the clearing. Link recognized Darby's voice but could do nothing to help the Westlin brother. The two blademasters stopped their approach and spared a moment's glance in the direction of the scream.

Link seized on that momentary distraction and attacked the soldier closest to him: Straight Hair.

The fallen swordsman was on one knee when he saw the Knight coming. He raised his sword to meet the Master Sword.

At the last second, Link twisted, letting his weight fall on his right leg, and swept his sword underneath the blademaster's sword arm. He turned his wrists inward with such speed he heard the joints give a popping sound. The Master Sword reversed direction and came up in a tight arc.

A spray of blood and bone filled the twilight colored clearing. The blademaster screamed and scrambled backward with his arm held tightly to his chest. A dark bloodstain quickly worked its way across his gray tunic. On the ground in the shadow of the Master Sword was the blademaster's hand, severed at the wrist and still gripping the hilt just below the silver likeness of Duke Volo.

Link took no pleasure in the ghastly act, nor did he have time to; he quickly came about and blocked the double slash of two outraged blademasters.

~

Evonne stared in shock at the sight before her. Darby was down on his knees with his hands braced on either side of Dermot's unmoving body. The young Westlin sobbed and begged the gods not to take his brother. The point of the short sword still protruded from Dermot's chest and the hilt in his back kept him from lying even, giving him an odd reclining pose.

Beside her, Sergeant Relue also looked on with a look of surprise. "I never wanted killing," he said so low she had to strain to hear.

Another scream from the front of the clearing echoed Darby's grief ridden wail. Evonne and Relue turned in time to see a gray clad blademaster stumble against the trunk of the bent tree. Against his chest he held the bloody stump of his right hand. Evonne felt her last meal rise to the back of her throat.

The rustling of underbrush turned her attention back to this side of the camp. Relue could not take his gaze from the wounded blademaster.

A chainmail clad soldier emerged from the brush. Evonne thought him to be one of the two men Link faced several days ago, and a swollen nose that bent at an odd angle confirmed her guess.

The solider paused for a moment at the perimeter of the clearing, took in the scene, then drew his sword and started for Darby.

"No!" Evonne came to her feet and ran to Darby. She raised a hand to warn the solider away, tripped over her own feet, and scrambled back up to position herself between the soldier and Darby.

"Please," she said, "don't do this." She looked to Relue. "Is this justice? Killing, hurting, and maiming—is this what Volo sent you to do?"

Evonne knew Relue, the solider, the injured blademaster, Darby, and maybe even Link was staring at her but didn't care. Too much had happened for that to worry her now. She could no longer watch people being hurt without at least trying to stop it. Even if that meant being the next one struck down, she was ready. 

"Just leave us alone!" she yelled. "You have your gem back! You even have the blood of one of us. What more do you want? Do you think we're getting away with a crime? If so, just look around you!

"I don't want any of this," she continued in a whisper. "I wouldn't touch that jewel again for all the rupees in the world. It must be cursed for us to have ended up like this." Evonne realized, then, that her face was wet from tears.

For a long moment Relue did not move. He considered Dermot on the ground still held up at an odd angle by the hilt of the short sword, the soldier with the broken nose that stood waiting for orders, and the duel that continued to rage beyond the bent tree. The Knight of the Triforce retreated under a furious assault by the remaining blademasters. The wounded blademaster was pale as he fumbled tying his belt around his arm as a crude tourniquet.

Finally, Sergeant Relue drew himself up tall and called for a halt. The soldier with the broken nose stood at ease without pause, but the duel in the front of the camp took another three calls before quieting.

Link stood with his back against the tree, breathing heavily and gripping his sword in a sweaty, two-handed grip. The blademasters, too, appeared wearied by the sustained combat. All seemed confused by the call for peace.

And then Evonne understood.

She thought back to Link's words: 'The reward for aid given just might be your own salvation' and understood. Relue wasn't debating whether he should continue to pursue them, but if he dared set them free. Link would not be taken without a fight, even a fight he would likely lose, and neither would Evonne.

Evonne knew that now and did not shy from it. She'd crossed a line while standing up for Darby and for better or worse she was across it. The fear and hopelessness in Evonne abated. She felt strangely calm. She wiped her face with her sleeve and sat back on her heels.

Relue sheathed his sword and turned about to address everyone in the clearing. "Duke Volo entrusted me with a mission to return the headpiece of his family's lineage tablet," he said loud enough for all to hear. "I did not set out to lose men or to return them unable to fight. I have done all I was ordered to do here." He met Link's stare and held it. "Who are you in this land called Hyrule, Knight?"

Despite the sweat dripping from his face, Link managed to look regal. "A common man," he replied.

"And would there be others of your order here should you be punished by Duke Volo?"

Link was silent for a long moment, as though thinking of how best to answer. "The monarchy recognizes only true justice," he finally said. "I cannot speak for the Princess, but I have always known her to be a woman of fairness."

Relue nodded. "Of course. And the men I left behind at the Sleeping Dog Inn, do they still live?"

"They do," Link said. "I bribed the owner of the inn into helping me. The men are being held in the Dog's two best rooms."

Evonne saw a hundred different possibilities pass in Relue's eyes. In his tactically trained mind, he quickly calculated what it would take to deal with Link, Evonne, and Darby, and what the political concerns and lawfulness of each consideration was. 

"Stand down," Relue commanded the blademasters. "And help your comrade."

The two started to protest, but stopped when they saw the commitment in Relue's gaze. He would not back down from this. They sheathed their weapons and moved to help the injured swordsman.

"Take the girl, Knight, and—"Relue gestured to Darby—"what remains of her friend and leave this country. I don't care where you go, but you can never return here. If any of you do, I shall personally place your head on a pike for Duke Volo's enjoyment."

With nothing left to say, Relue beckoned the soldier with the broken nose to him and turned back to the campsite.

Evonne's head felt light as though it was floating above her shoulders. In the back of her mind, she realized that Link's aphorism had been correct. Hand over hand she crawled to Darby and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

Together they grieved for Dermot, and, for the innocence that was now lost to them both.

****

Epilogue

They buried Dermot underneath the large tree in the center of the clearing. Dawn cast a red-gold light that worked to pierce the thick canopy of treetops around the clearing. Fractures of light, broken by the tall flora, shone on the ground. Bugs buzzed as they flew about the waking forest. Spiders worked diligently to restring webs made visible by morning mists. Dew dripped from flower petals leaving stains like teardrops on the dirt floor. The smell of life was thick as Darby, Evonne, and Link paid final respects to the dead.

Beside Evonne, Link sighed and ran his fingers back through his hair. They stood several paces away from Darby, letting the Westlin say good-bye to his brother in his own way. Darby choked back a sob as he touched the gravemarker Link had carved from a fallen branch in the surrounding wood.

"I wish it didn't have to end like this," Link said softly.

"So do I," Evonne replied. "But it did happen—all of it happened."

"Are you going to be okay?"

Evonne hesitated. "I-I don't know how to be what he needs," she confessed. "I don't know why he did what he did."

Link drew a deep breath and released it slowly. "He chose the path he thought was best. He knew what he was doing, Evonne."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she said. "What makes me worthy?"

"What makes you not?" Link countered. "What makes any of us not worthy of such protection? Darby acted because that is what his heart told him to do.

"He didn't choose you over his brother, he chose you over all others. He would just have easily killed a stranger if he had to. I can't tell you how to feel...but take it from someone who knows, guilt helps no one. It will eat you mercilessly from the inside out.

"From where I'm standing, Evonne, you should feel glad that he found something to believe in and fight for."

"Even if it was at great cost?" she asked.

"Especially because it was at great cost," he said. "I suspect that you, too, found something to fight for when Dermot fell. In time, you shall see what was gained last night, not what was lost. All three of you gained something in this clearing."

"And what could Dermot have gained?" Evonne asked bitterly. "Death?"

"No, simply what he sought with all of his crimes and cons. Think about it, Evonne, and you will find the answer."

"But I still don't know what Darby needs," she said.

"Just be to him what you have always been," the Knight told her, "and you both will be fine." He placed a hand on her back and gave her a gentle shove toward Darby.

Evonne glanced back then started for the grave. She dropped to her knees beside Darby and let a hand hover for a moment over his shoulder before finally embracing him.

Link turned away and let them have a moment of privacy.

Sergeant Relue had left the clearing several hours before dawn. He'd left Link with another warning to return to Hyrule immediately. Pocketing the ruby still wrapped in cheesecloth, Relue gathered his men and rode back in the direction of Lathander. What he would tell Volo when he returned to the estate, the trio could only guess

"It's time, isn't it?" Darby asked after several minutes had passed.

Evonne nodded. "I think so."

Darby touched the gravemarker one final time. "Farewell, brother. I'm sorry for many things, especially that you never had a chance to see the world."

With their arms intertwined, Evonne and Darby stood. Evonne said her own silent good bye to the man that had tried to kill her and that had fought to protect the man she loved. Looking inward, she realized that she held no ill feelings toward Dermot. The three of them had all done things they shouldn't have over the past few weeks.

They found Link walking along the edge of the clearing, trying hard to busy himself with making sure the campsite had been fully dismantled. He glanced at them, seemed to read something in their eyes, and started toward them.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked.

Darby and Evonne nodded in unison. "My brother and I wished so hard to escape this land," he said, "and now I find myself mournful to leave."

Link gave them a look of understanding. He hefted his pack and gestured to the north. "Calatia is about a day's walk from here," he said. "If you two start now and keep a good pace, you should reach the border by nightfall. Volo can't touch you, then."

"You're not coming with us?" Evonne asked.

"No." Link pulled his cloak tight around his body. "The roads are calling me in a different direction, now." He met each of their gazes. "I know you both will be fine from here. Keep to the main road in Calatia and you will come to a small town. Go to the Red Candle Stick Inn and talk to a man named Payton. He's a friend of mine and will help you get rested and prepared for whatever you wish to do next."

Darby and Evonne shared a glance. "We don't know what to do next," she said.

The look of thoughtful humor returned to Link's face. "And that, Evonne, is the point." He turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Darby shuffled forward. He reached for the short sword still strapped to his belt. "You should have this back, Link," he said. "I don't think I'm ready to carry something like this."

Link drew back slightly. "No, Darby, I think you are definitely ready. Your reluctance to carry the blade is a sign of that." He glanced down and then back up. "Think about it, talk with Evonne, and if you still don't want the sword then sell it to Payton. Say my name and he'll give you a good price."

Darby lowered his hand from the hilt and nodded.

Evonne came up along side Darby and slipped her arm around his waist. "Where will you go now, Link? Back to Hyrule?"

"In time," Link said. "First I am going to shadow Relue to Lathander and make sure no harm comes to Mistress Gayla for helping us. From there...well, I'll see where the roads lead."

"Perhaps we will meet again someday," Darby said. Despite the hopeful tone, all knew that wasn't likely. It was a big world out there.

Link raised a hand in farewell. "Safe travels, my friends," he said.

"Good bye, Link."

The Knight of the Triforce turned away and walked back the way they had come. He moved quietly and steadily down the path to Lathander. Just a simple traveler.

Darby and Evonne watched until the forest swallowed his cloaked form. They turned and wordlessly left the clearing in the opposite direction.

They kept their eyes forward and did not look back at the land they'd once called home, or to the shadows they had momentarily lost themselves in there.

End.


End file.
